


Brock is a short bebe and Jack loves it.

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Brock has a bubble butt, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Size Difference, Size Kink, because I have no idea where this is going, jack loves it, this was supposed to be something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6450415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started innocently enough. One day when Brock came into work all the Coffee bean cans were shoved onto the top shelf, like literally shoved shoved. They were all the way at the back and there was no way in hell that He was going to be able to reach them.<br/>‘Oh for Fuck sakes.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something completely different and I'm still trying to figure out how this happened.  
> Also I don't have beta, so if you spot any mistakes you can just (nicely) let me know :)

It started innocently enough. One day when Brock came into work all the Coffee bean cans were shoved onto the top shelf, like literally shoved shoved. They were all the way at the back and there was no way in hell that He was going to be able to reach them.  
‘Oh for Fuck sakes.’  
Brock thought as he scrambled for purchase against the counter, trying to brace his weight on a wrist while his other hand flailed blindly above his head. For a fraction of a second, his fingertips brushed against the label of the canister, only to push it farther back into the cabinet.  
He huffed and repositioned, pressing his pelvis against the counter and leaning forward. It had the unfortunate effect of pushing his ass out like one of those fucking strippers down at that club the guys took him to the other night, but his fingers once more found the can and scraped against it futilely.  
Now Brock would normally go and find the step ladder but some asshole decided that it be funny to go and hide that shit from him, so now he was forced to have someone else do his dirty work for him.  
Someone tall, dark, and handsome, his mind oh so helpfully supplied as Jack sauntered into the shop, with his nose buried in his book still.

“Jaaaaaack,” Brock called(whined), “Could you come over here and gimme a hand for a sec?”

Jack stopped in mid-stride, eyes peering up from his book, meaning only to take a quick glance before ultimately tell Brock to go fuck himself, and stopping dead as he opened his mouth to say as much. Raking his eyes over the of Brock’s body stretched out in front of him,paying special attention to long line of sinewy muscle and his out thrust hips.  
Taking a deep breath in through his nose and clearing his throat, “ what do you need?” He said as he motioned to the cabinet.

“The can of coffee beans,” Brock grumbled, “ the idiots that closed last night thought it’s be funny shove them up at the top, knowing full well I can’t reach ‘em up the- oh!”  
Jack had come over and plastered himself against Brock’s back. Looping one hand around the smaller man’s torso to brace himself, he ever so slowly reached up and brought the canister down for Brock’s inspection.  
“This one?” He murmured into the sort man’s ear, taking note of the fact that Brock’s breathing had become just a little heavier and coming in quicker. It would be just so to bend him over the counter…  
“Y-yeah,” Brock said, “ that’s it.”  
Quick as a snake Jack disengaged and strolled back to the table where he left his book, humming a little tune softly on his way to the staff room. “ oh Brock,” he called over his shoulder, “ lemme know if you need anymore help.” After all it Jack always did love a good chase.

Brock dumped the coffee bean in the grinder and flipped the machine on to start heating the water up, because god forbid the damn thing was just a flick button and voila coffee! But noooo, Fucking Rogers had to make all fucking fancy and shit. 

He MIGHT have been able to pay attention if he wasn’t so focused on what just happened with Jack not even five minutes ago. It was enlightening to say the least.  
He couldn’t help but wonder if Jack had a ‘helpless kink’ or if it was just because Brock happened to have his ass out.If brock were a man of science he would try to say he needed to experiment with this hypothesis but... Well, there was only one way to see if Jack was interested in fucking him or just fucking with him, and Brock could not wait to find out.

When the shop opened for the day Brock was so distracted trying to get Jack to slip up again, he kept botching every order that came his way, until Rogers came out from the office and told him to go clean the bathrooms, or do inventory, ANYTHING but be up front. So on his way to meander on to the back to grab the cleaning stuff, he deliberately shoved himself between the counter and Jack ( despite there being more than enough room to go around) and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and hands momentarily coming up to his hips before leaving to shove him out of the way. With a small pout Brock went easily but not before brushing his ass up against Jack’s crotch and feeling that bit of erection that was starting to grow there. And oh yeah, Jack was interested. Suddenly Brock’s head was filled with images of those large muscular arms pinning him down or lifting him up, and Jack looming over him and stretching him out.  
‘Oh fuck!’ Brock thought, yeah those were definitely going into his Happy Time folder for later.

Steve was starting to get a little worried about Brock, Sure the man was an asshole, but suddenly every time he smaller man came into work, the cans of coffee were put on top of the cabinets, the rags for wiping tables down were shoved onto the taller shelves, and suddenly the step-ladder was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t much of problem for anyone but Brock and the whole thing stank of bullying to the blonde. Now Steve Rogers did not tolerate bullying in anyway shape or form and therefore took it upon himself to investigate for any signs foul play.

Not even two days later, Steve found Brock struggling to reach a sugar dispenser put directly in the middle of their large group table. The short little man was bent over double across the table trying desperately to reach the container, his fingers scratching at the wooden surface.

“Hey Brock, Do you need a ha-?”

“Rogers! Barnes needs ya in the backroom to sign for that order.” Steve turned around to find Jack standing there, with his arms folded across his chest, giving him a dead eyed stare, that seemed at odds with seemly pleasant tone.  
“ I can give Brock a hand, if he needs it.” He said before stepping between them in almost a possessive air and a smile that showed too many teeth.  
Steve watched for a moment as Jack plastered himself over Brock’s back to grab the sugar dispenser for him, following the line of brock’s body and clasping his fingers to bring it within reach, before awkwardly excusing himself to run off to the back room.

On the way Steve thought that maybe Brock would benefit from on those grabber things he saw at the dollar store the other day and made a mental note to pick one up for shorter man. In an effort to maybe stop any bullying that might be occurring, though he thought that it might alright seeing as that Jack was clearly looking out for the other man.

Jack threw the damn thing out before Brock ever got a chance to see it.


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the steady beating of Jack’s heart and the fact that Brock fucking hated ‘ Casablanca’, he was quickly lulled to sleep, well before the end of the movie. If anybody else had noticed they kept their collective mouths shut. Besides, one glance at the look on Jack’s face ( murderous was good name for it) and no one wanted to wake or move the sleeping man anyways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know This ends in weird place, and I know it's also kinda short.In all honesty I really couldn't think of another way to end this chapter seeing as that next one the one that really makes this story earn it's 'E' rating. So sorry, not sorry for this filler chapter. Enjoy and I'll the 3rd and final chapter up either later today or sometime tomorrow.
> 
> Any Mistakes are mine and mine alone. If you spot any errors just let me know   
>  :) !

_        This fucking sucks,  _  Brock thought slumping down into the couch just a little bit more.  _  Who’s fucking bright idea was this _ ? Even as the thought crossed his mind he knew exactly whose idea of “fun” this particular brand of hell belonged to,  **Rogers.**  Because let’s face it, everybody else was perfectly happy going home at the end of their shifts. NOBODY else thought it was a big deal not to know the hobbies or dreams of their fellow co-worker. And the only person in the room that looked like they were enjoying themselves, was big, blond buffoon himself. Even Barnes looked like he wanted to strangle him, and that was saying something considering how disgustingly sappy the two of them were together. No one wanted to have a “team bonding” movie night, but fucking Rogers had that goddamn kicked puppy look that everybody seemed to a sucker for. Including Brock.  So here he was in his own special brand of hell watching everyone squabble about which movie to watch.  Six grown ass adults arguing over a fucking movie. On the other end of the couch he was sitting on Jack looked similarly impressed by the proceedings, which translated to,  **getting ready to throw someone out a window,**  and from the looks of thing it was gearing up to be Clint, who wanted to watch something called ‘Sharknado’. Thankfully in the end everyone was able to agree on a movie ( Casablanca, _ damn Rogers and puppy eyes.)  _ with next to no bloodshed and very few tears.

All in all, it was one their better ‘ team bonding’ nights. Much better than the paintball  **_incident._ **

 

And though everybody had started out in their normal upright positions, on their chosen chairs/ sofas, throughout the course of the movie everyone had gradually seemed to melt into boneless, limp piles everywhere. Natasha was draped in an armchair like it was a fucking throne, Clint was snuggled up in front of the armchair, head resting a little bit on her belly. Rogers and Barnes were in each others laps on the loveseat, and somehow, despite having started on opposite ends of the couch, Jack and Brock had gravitated towards each other, so that they were reclining together, Brock’s head resting on Jack’s chest. Between the steady beating of Jack’s heart and the fact that Brock fucking hated ‘ Casablanca’, he was quickly lulled to sleep, well before the end of the movie.  If anybody else had noticed they kept their collective mouths shut. Besides, one glance at the look on Jack’s face ( murderous was good name for it) and no one wanted to wake or move the sleeping man anyways. 

* * *

 

Jack was currently wandering what the was wrong with him. Not that long ago he all for punching Brock’s face in. with his stupid fucking hair style and little cowboy boots that he fucking wore everywhere.  _  What the hell happened?  _  He thought as he found that he was starting to  **_really_ ** enjoy having Brock pressed against him- something about enveloping Brock’s hard compact form, was just… more than a little addicting. Just the way he squirmed under him and grinded his ass right into Jack’s crotch  ALL THE DAMN TIME- seriously it was getting downright obscene, with the way he did it. Which is why Jack had retreated to the backroom trying to hide his aching erection and was now staring off  into space, fantasizing about Brock bent over the counter in break room. His legs spread enticingly, his lips parted and his breath coming in short pants as his hips bucked up against the counter, trying to get even the smallest amount of friction…

 

_ Fuck.  _ Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, and started to desperately try and will away his throbbing hard on before some poor soul came to the backroom and got an eyeful.

* * *

 

“Wooooo! Iiiit’s FRIDAY BITCHES!” Clint exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high five. Everyone looked over at him with varying looks of exhaustion, and not for the first time Brock wondered if he was a 14 year old boy trapped in a man’s body, because that level of energy after the day they all just had should not be fucking possible.Even Rogers looked like he was ready to drop, which was saying something because that man never seemed to get tired. Meanwhile Clint was still holding up his hand, looking like if someone didn’t high five him soon he was going to start crying and, Brock was okay with that. He was at the point of ‘ zero fucks given’ and just honestly wanted to go home and drop into bed. So Of Fucking Course, ( and it must revenge for leaving him hanging) Clint pipes up with, “ I’m hungry, anyone else hungry? Oh! Let’s go get shit-faced and eat terrible food down at HYDRA!” He said while bouncing around everybody, and then looked over at Natasha, who started to shake her head but when faced with the full force of Barton’s teary eyes changed it to a nod. Which in turn led to her glaring at Barnes and Rogers with a look that clearly said ‘ Do Not Leave Me Alone With Him, Because Only One Of Us Will Make It Out Alive.’ And of Fucking course they caved, because Romanoff was the scariest bitch they ever met and no one wanted to piss her off. Which just left Brock and Jack to say yay or nay.   _ Fuck fuck fuck,  _ Brock thought,  _ if Jack says yes, i have to as well.  _

“I could eat,” Jack said with a shrug.

He sighed and all thought of just dropping into bed were quickly flying out the window. So just to save himself the trouble of  embarrassing himself with a lame excuse he said “Fine, but it’s your treat Barton,” and was rewarded with whine from Clint as everybody else laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and follow me on Tumblr @neutralchaos915


	3. Fucking finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was really wishing that maybe he had made an excuse at this point to not come out with everyone and just found a way to drag Brock over to his place, because his jeans were starting to get a little tight watching as the smaller man stood up with the pool cue in his hand, arching his back a little too much. As if he had no fucking clue what he was doing to Jack, which was bullshit. The little shithead was perfectly aware of what he was doing, Jack could tell by the little smirk on his face and the way he ALWAYS made sure that he was away from Jack before he bent over.  
> “Are you alright Jack?”  
> Startled he took a look back, to find the other three people at the table staring at him with worried looks on their faces. Well Barnes and Natasha had little evil smirks plastered on, while Rogers looked both confused and worried. Shit. Jack realized he had been growling.  
> The fuck is wrong with me?  
> “Oh, he’s just fine Stevie,” Barnes drawled, “ in fact I’d say the only thing wrong with him is a case of blue balls. Courtesy of our very own Bubble Butt Brock over there.” He finished with a nod over at the pool table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 800 words to get them bed. 1800 of them finally in bed together :) Just think, I could've split this into another 2 chapters and really made you all wait for sexy time >:3
> 
> Enjoy! <3

            Jack was fuming. After everyone agreed to meet up for drinks  ( Clint’s treat. Thank you Brock) they all went back to their respective homes to change out of their work clothes, and for the most part everyone else had changed for comfort not style. Except Brock. No the little shithead decided to change into the tightest pair of fucking skinny jeans that Jack had ever seen. The kind that left NOTHING to the imagination, and perfectly framed his perfectly round luscious cheeks. Which okay, Jack could’ve lived with, IF, that asshole wasn’t finding every opportunity to bend over or press his glorious backside into Jack. Like currently the little jerk was bending over the pool table, quite unnecessarily too.  And there was absolutely nothing that Jack could Fucking do about it. Why? Because he was stuck next to fucking Rogers, who was going on about some fucking cat video or something. In all honestly jack wasn’t listening but Rogers didn’t know that, going from the fact that he was still talking. But Barnes certainly did, so did Romanoff going by the way the two of them were watching him. Mind you, it’s not like he was being subtle about it, given the fact that he hadn’t stopped looking over at the pool table all night, and was just nursing his glass of whiskey.

He was really wishing that maybe he had made an excuse at this point to not come out with everyone and just found a way to drag Brock over to his place, because his jeans were starting to get a little tight watching as the smaller man stood up with the pool cue in his hand, arching his back a little too much. As if he had no fucking clue what he was doing to Jack, which was bullshit. The little shithead was perfectly aware of what he was doing, Jack could tell by the little smirk on his face and the way he ALWAYS made sure that he was away from Jack before he bent over.

“Are you alright Jack?”

Startled he took a look back, to find the other three people at the table staring at him with worried looks on their faces. Well Barnes and Natasha had little evil smirks plastered on, while Rogers looked both confused and worried. _Shit._ Jack realized he had been growling.

_The fuck is wrong with me?_

“Oh, he’s just fine Stevie,” Barnes drawled, “ in fact I’d say the only thing wrong with him is a case of blue balls. Courtesy of our very own Bubble Butt Brock over there.” He finished with a nod over at the pool table.Jack just let out a sigh at barnes blunt proclamation, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Natasha getting up and strolling over to the pool table. Suspicious he gave any pretense of even pretending to listen to what might’ve come out Roger’s mouth at that statement and carefully watched as the redhead whispered something into Clint’s ear.

* * *

 

Brock took very little notice when Natasha strolled up to talk to Clint, he was too busy trying to figure out how to best line up his next shot so that his ass was facing over towards Jack.

“Hey Rumlow,” Brock looked up at the sound of Clint’s voice. “What?” He asked a little irritated to be distracted from his incredible seduction technique. “What do a penis and a rubik's cube have in common?” Clint asked with smirk. Brock looked with at him, his expression saying _are you fucking kidding me?_ “ I don’t fucking know Barton. What do they have in common?” He replied, a very large part of him already cringing at the punch line. “The more you play with it, the harder it gets!” Clint finished with a loud laugh, holding his sides as both Natasha and Brock rolled their eyes. Well Brock was actually laughing a little but would deny it later because let’s face it, that was terrible. In his distraction he failed to notice that A) Clint had moved closer, and B) that he had moved behind him and had his hand raised way up high. If he had, he would’ve been able to dodge the smack that landed firmly on his ass and he would’ve avoided the very (manly) shriek that followed.

“What the actual fuck Barton!” He yelped trying to grab his ass to soothe the stinging that was now there. Trying being the operative word because Clint’s hands hadn't removed themselves and were now very much fucking groping his cheeks.

“awe , poor baby. Do you need me to-” Clint never got to finish before Jack grabbed his hands and shoved him away.  Brock turned completely around just in time for Jack to wrap his arms around his shoulders and firmly lead him out of the bar without so much as a ‘see ya later’ to the group.

 

The entire ride back to Jack’s, the man didn’t say one fucking word, and while the man wasn’t known for his ability to pour sonnets from his mouth, it still unnerved Brock a little.  Pulling up the drive way Jack didn’t waste any time, he simply grabbed Brock and heaved him over his shoulder. Dropping on the bed Jack finally spoke.

“Strip.” The order come like the crack of a whip and Jack’s voice, _fuck, Jack’s VOICE_  was shot through with pleasure. Brock had remained standing, while Jack propped himself up onto his elbows.

Brock smirked and started to slowly run his hands under the hem of his shirt, gently lifting it inch by fucking inch, exposing scraps of tanned s

* * *

kin. Everything started to fall prey to Jack’s hungry stare until, at fucking last, that damn shirt fell to the floor, exposing Brock’s entire torso for Jack’s approval. And judging from the dark wet patch staining the fabric of Jack’s pants, he approved very much so. Brock then hooked his thumbs under the waistband, rubbing them back and forth a few times over the material, as though he were looking for the best place to grip to remove his pants completely. Jack licked his lips. “Turn, Brock.” He punctuated this with a languid twirl of his big finger, and Brock laughed. Jack wanted to fucking see? Let him. Brock spun a slow half circle and slid his fucking, painted on skinny jeans off completely, letting the fabric pool to the floor where he kicked it out of the way.

“Fuck.” Jack breathed as reached out to cup that gorgeous ass, and yeah, just like in his jerk off fantasies, it was a perfect fucking handful. And, damn right he squeezed, marveling at the weight resting in palms. “What about you?” Brock murmured as crawled on top of the bigger man. Jack gave a slow lazy smile in return and simply unbuttoned his jeans, just enough to pull his cock out.

“That ‘s not fair.” Brock pouted and then gasped as their dicks brushed up against each other. Jack just smirked, before he drew the smaller man to into a fierce kiss, a fucking messy thing of teeth and tongues.With a small grunt, Jack rolled them over, pinning Brock under him and fulfilling a fantasy the man had had since he first set eyes on Jack, on his first day at ‘Shield’ and the man told him to ‘ fucks off, he was trying to work’. It would be completely perfect if -

Brock raised his arms above his head, the plea more in his eyes, because his mouth was still too proud to voice it, but Jack understood( he ALWAYS understood) and complied, clasping both of Brock’s wrists in one large hand,  leaving the other free to continue a downward track over Brock’s arm, across his chest - pausing momentarily to tweak a nipple - and going down, down -

“Lube?” The man groaned against Jack’s lips. Jack quickly reached over to the ( conveniently) placed nightstand beside the bed, withdrew a bottle of the slippery substance and deftly poured a generous amount onto his hand. His fingers wrapped themselves around Brock’s thickness, pumping in an infuriatingly slow rhythm that had Brock lifting his hips for more. The angle was somewhat awkward, but as far as Brock was fucking concerned it was perfect, just for having Jack tower over him like that. After a few steady pumps, the fingers again began a downward path, curling over his tightened sac and giving it a proprietary roll, and gliding down his perineum before coming to rest pressed lightly to his furled hole.

Brock keened and pressed his hips upwards. “Jack!” He demanded, struggling slightly against the man’s grip to get those fucking fingers inside him yesterday.

Jack just laughed, swirling the finger casually and loving every fucking second of Brock’s squirming “What’s the magic word?” He teased as he just barely dipped the tip in.

“You’re an evil bastard?” Brock gasped, “No, no, how about fuck me right now or I’m calling this off?”

Jack laughed again and slipped the finger into the second knuckle, twisting it to coat the slippery substance over Brock’s inner walls. “I really fucking doubt that,” he murmured, low and sweet, his green eyes glittering at him from under dark lashes. “You want this as much as I do, Sweetheart.”

Brock groaned.

But for all of Jack’s showboating, he actually prepped Brock quickly and efficiently - he was just as eager to get into that ass as Brock was for him to be in. When Jack pulled his fingers away, Brock wrapped his leg around Jack’s pelvis and lifted his hips impatiently for him to get a good handhold.

“Now are we ready?”

Jack’s only response was to press the head of his cock right into him, the steady and stretching pressure completely cutting off any and all of Brock’s brain function. Nothing existed anymore but the caveman in his head hooting at him to get fucked already, and Brock eagerly raised his hips once more to ease Jack’s passage.

It was glorious, it was electric, and every one of Jack’s panting thrusts seemed to pour fucking molten lava over his cock, and it was just perfect - the hard line of Jack’s sweat covered( and still fucking clothed) body looming over him, the fluidity of the muscles gliding under his skin, and the tense wanting carved into his face. Brock almost wished for a moment that he could touch, trace those beads of salty sweat with his fingers, dig his nails into that solid back to spur him on, but there will time for that later, time for a slow exploration with tongues and fingers and kisses - this was exactly as it was meant to be; demanding and desperate.

Jack’s grip on on the smaller man’s hips gave him the perfect position to pummel his prostate, each thrust timed to send waves of glowing pulses over Brock’s nerves, whiting out his vision and sparking a chain reaction that fucking firebombed down his spine. This, combined with the frottage against Jack’s stomach, sent Brock spiraling down the pit of his orgasm, his seed spurting between their bodies, and his hot walls clenching down on the bigger man, who struggled against his own ecstasy, not ready yet to leave his conquest, but of fucking course, biology won out over psychology, and Jack finished not far behind.

They stayed pressed together for a long moment, chests heaving before Jack released Brock’s hands and pressed him down for another kiss. It was quieter, simpler, and frequently broken by a need to recover oxygen lost during their frantic fucking, but their lips always seemed to find their way back to each other.

Eventually Jack had to pull out with a groan and then rolled onto his back, sweat still glimmering on his forehead. Brock wiggled onto his side and into the crux of Jack’s big arms.

“That was fucking awesome,” Brock slowly admitted,but a content sigh was pulling his eyes closed. Jack’s legs were still hanging off the bed as Brock  was curling up into a ball.

“It was alright,” Jack allowed with a teasing drawl.

Brock shot straight up with an offended squeak. “Alright?! Fuck you! ”

Jack laughed and swatted Brock on the ass, enjoying the waves of jiggles that it caused. “I mean, I’ll have to do it again in order to give you a better fucking review there, Princess.”

Brock huffed and squirmed his body up farther onto the bed like a caterpillar. “Gimme fifteen minutes,” he mumbled to Jack’s booming laughter.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on Tumblr @ Neutralchaos915 :)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ neutralchaos915


End file.
